Jimella with Cate, Rosemary and Nanci

I glanced out my dining room window just in time to see across-the-street neighbor Les Driscoll pause in his yard work and doff his baseball cap to someone out of view.  Now that’s something I hadn’t seen before!  It could only be someone special to rate such a respectful gesture from a busy man on a drizzly Tuesday morning.  I didn’t wait to see who.  Instead I dashed outside, knowing somehow that it must Jimella on one of her now infrequent walks through Oysterville.

Nor was I disappointed.  There she was, coming down the street surrounded by friends who laughed and talked as they took turns pushing her wheelchair and holding a giant umbrella over her head.  It was a loving procession fit for a queen and, as we met in front of my gate, I resisted the urge to bow or even to genuflect a bit.

Collage of Jimella Memories

Instead, I accepted an invitation to pose with the group for a picture.  As I moved into place next to Jimella, she took my hand and, although she looked tiny and waif-like nestled in her hooded jacket, her grip was surprisingly strong.  I thought, incongruously, of Noel Thomas’s description of Jimella when he worked in the Ark’s kitchen for a short time in the ‘80s.  “Her hands must be made of asbestos; she reaches right into boiling water to check on how something is coming along!”

We all exchanged Thanksgiving greetings and they were on their way again, headed south and home.  I loved the opportunity of seeing Jimella ‘out and about.’  Last spring and summer she was often a solitary walker along Territory Road and would hang over the fence and visit while I flailed around in the flower beds.  I will remember those conversations in the gardening seasons to come, but it was this brief drizzly day visit that will come to mind most often.  Thanks for stopping by, Jimella!